


Another Mission Report Fic

by taylor_tut



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Overworking, Parental Roy Mustang, Sick Character, Sick Edward Elric, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 16:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13708689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Roy and Breda take care of Ed when he tries to report with a migraine.





	Another Mission Report Fic

By the time Ed actually got to Roy’s office to give his report, he could barely open his eyes through the blinding migraine pain. He stumbled with his hand over his throbbing eyes, stopping when he hit something sturdy and bounced off, ending up on the ground.

“Hey, chief!” Breda smiled, “Watch where you’re going, there. I almost soaked you with coffee.” Ed could smell the bitter, black coffee in Breda’s cup and it made his stomach churn. He offered a hand, but Ed didn’t take it–he didn’t even open his eyes. Breda’s jovial tone took on an edge of concern. “Woah, are you okay?” He knelt down in front of Ed, just starting to examine his face up close when a voice from behind them startled him. 

“Fullmetal,” Roy drawled, “You’re late.” Ed groaned, pressing the palms of his hands deeply into his eye sockets. 

“Can we reschedule?” he asked in a small, almost whispering voice. 

Breda turned to Mustang and started to talk softly. “I’m gonna go get a medic,” he explained calmly, “the kid’s not doing so hot.”

Roy nodded and knelt down, taking in Ed’s pallor and pained grimace. “Are you injured?” he asked, scanning him for bleeding wounds. Ed shook his head, so he continued, frowning when Ed dug his hands even deeper at his eyes. “Did you hit your head on the mission?” Another negative reply. 

“Just–crazy headache,” Ed explained. For a kid who normally never stopped whining, seeing him clearly in a concerning amount of pain and brushing it off as just a headache softened something in Roy’s heart. He pressed a hand to Ed’s forehead and found it cool but clammy and sweaty. 

“You’re not feverish,” Roy murmured. “Are you stressed?” 

Ed barked out a laugh as an answer and Roy kicked himself mentally for asking dumb questions. “Right, okay. I think you might have a migraine. You just need to sleep it off.”

“I can’t sleep in this much pain,” Ed argued as he allowed himself to be ushered to the couch. 

“Breda’s on his way back up with a medic. They can give you pain meds, or at least a sedative.”

“I won’t be able to do any work if i’m sleepin’,” Ed argued stupidly.

“That’s the point,” Roy argued, not understanding the issue. 

“But the Stone–” Ed’s eyes unfocused and Roy thought for a horrifying moment that the kid might either pass out or throw up. “You said this one’d be a lead.” Guilt flashed icy and purple across Roy’s mind–he’d only said that to get Ed to go without complaining. 

“The lead will still be there when you’re feeling better,” he reassured. Breda opened the door to the office holding a bottle of pills and a washcloth. Following him was Hughs and Armstrong, carrying a bowl of ice water, hot tea, and a blanket. 

“The medic was busy,” Breda whispered, “something about an attack on the train. We borrowed some stuff from her.”

Roy shuddered, thinking about just how angry the medic would be when she found out. “Is that a good idea? Won’t she be mad?”

“Of course not; a soldier needs medical attention, so she’ll understand.” Roy raised an eyebrow. “…Or maybe we just won’t tell her,” he finished lamely. That sounded a little more reasonable.

Armstrong placed the washrag into the ice water, wrung it out, and placed it over Ed’s forehead, smiling as he visibly relaxed from the immediate relief it brought. 

“I’ve told you you work the kid too hard,” Hughs scolded Mustang. Though he didn’t want to admit it, Hughs was probably right. Ed was a soldier, but he was also a teenager, one with way too much injustice in his life to begin with, and under any other circumstances, Roy would likely feel the same paternal drive that the others clearly did.

“He’s got to work,” Roy argued weakly. “Otherwise, we can’t keep him in the military. You know that.”

Ed stirred, clearly not as asleep as everyone had thought, and pushed the rag off his forehead, sitting up looking panicked. 

“Ed,” Armstrong soothed, “hey; lie down.”

The kid started to get up, fighting the arms that tried to push him back into a recumbent position. “Don’t kick me out,” he pleaded, “I can work.” 

Hughs glared at Roy, who knelt down to Ed’s eye level and put a hand on his shoulders. 

“No one’s kicking you out,” he promised. “Just get a bit of sleep.” He handed Ed two sleeping pills from the bottle Breda had stolen and let him chase them down with tea. 

“Not sleeping,” Ed mumbled tiredly, “M’just gonna close my eyes for a minute. Just til the headache goes away.” Roy nodded, smiling slightly as Ed’s breathing evened out after only a few minutes of silence. 


End file.
